High Road
by Kovitlac
Summary: Another year after "Eastern Hospitality", and Vali cel Tradat finds the Vizier in something of a compromising position. Will he destroy the man who ruthlessly humiliated him less then a year ago? Or does the Sentinel have something else in mind?


**Kostantiniyye**

**1512**

_Damat_ Ali Pasha groaned, his left arm tightening around his mangled waist. The wound was severe – the horizontal slash through his diaphragm and across his rib cage left him conscious, and plenty aware of the intense agony. His right hand groped for his short sword and closed around the handle, but the uncharacteristic weakness he felt made it difficult to establish a firm grip, and the blade slipped from his blood-soaked fingers. The Assassin – his would-be killer – watched over him from above, kicking the weapon just out of the Vizier's reach. Ali gasped for air, and forced himself to roll over onto his back.

It had been going splendidly, until he'd discovered that the "Assassin informant" he had been ordered by Ahmet to kill had, in fact, turned out to be no fewer than four fully armed Assassins. It had all been a ruse. Ali Pasha's two soldiers had quickly been slaughtered, and despite his hard-earned skill with his short sword, four against one was grossly unfair. And as much as he hated to admit it, even one fully-trained Assassin was nothing to scoff at. He hadn't gotten where he was by being a damned fool.

Not that being careful would do him any good, anymore.

Now he'd face his death with the dignity and honor required of a Templar. Ahmet would demand nothing less, and the powerful Vizier would prefer it no other way. If his sacrifice was needed to further their cause, so be it. The black-cloaked figure raised his equally dark eyes to those of his conqueror, an icy snarl forming on his lips. The remaining Assassins (the two of them – Ali had been able to slice the jugular of the slowest one) took their leave, quickly melting back into the surrounding trees. Only the one remained behind to finish his job.

"Kill me, Assassin, if that is your wish. But do not leer over me as you do so." Ali gave a sharp gasp – the sudden motion of his chest caused the deep wound to sting. The dirt he was covered head to toe in wasn't helping.

The Assassin's brown eyes were surprisingly soft. The _Damat_ hated the look he was receiving.

"I take no joy in killing you, Vizier." The man spoke with a think Greek accent. He knelt over his weakened foe, placing an unyielding hand on his chest and giving him a firm push back down. Ali snarled in both rage and pain.

"You'll excuse me if I do not believe such lies." He hissed. "When here I am; covered in my own blood." He spit out the last word, and the Assassin could see that the dying man's teeth were stained with the dark red liquid. He settled down beside the Templar, positioning his hookblade and preparing to deliver the final act of mercy.

All at once he gave a brief shout, then a slow gurgle. Ali focused his hazy vision just in time to see the Greek Assassin collapse face-down in the dirt beside him, a short knife jutting from his throat. The Vizier managed to roll onto his stomach, reaching a trembling, outstretched hand for the sword. It was too far…his arm fell back down in the dirt. His vision continued to grow dark. His hearing, however, remained strong, and he listened to the sound of boots in the sand.

"_Ei bine,__uita-te la__acest..._ Grand Vizier. I did not expect to see _you_ in such...frail condition."

Ali Pasha had neither the strength to yell with rage, nor the strength to plead for mercy (the latter which, of course, he could never bring himself to do, anyway). He squinted his eyes, struggling to see through the murky haze. His deep chest wound, courtesy of a well-timed strike of the Assassin's deadly hidden blade, throbbed with agony. The Vizier drew in a halting breath, glaring up at the former Assassin with nothing short of pure hatred.

"Go, traitor…let me die with what dignity I have left…"

Vali gave the slightest tilt of his head. His hood eclipsed the setting sun, and to Ali Pasha, the traitor's silhouette and that of the now-dead Assassin appeared to be one and the same. The former Assassin knelt down beside the weakened Vizier.

"You misunderstood my purpose." He murmured. "You broke into my home. You humiliated me at the inn. And you report everything you find out about me back to the Prince." He smiled.

"_Prietenul meu_, I had no intention of allowing an _Assassin_ to have the pleasure of killing you." He smiled wickedly. This day couldn't have been more perfect if he had dreamt it.

"So then kill me! And be done with it." The Vizier snarled ruthlessly, ending his order with a sharp cough and several spilled droplets of blood against Vali's white cloak. The sentinel frowned. This was not how he had expected it to go. He glanced over the soldier's wounds with a practiced and knowing eye. The Vizier grew increasingly impatient, his hands forming into tight fists.

"If the _şehzade's_ plan calls for my death, then so be – "

"Shut up." Vali hissed. He was thinking. It was risky. If anyone else had suggested it to him, he would have rejected it outright. Bringing the damned Vizier to his knees and slicing his throat from ear to ear with his _katar_ had been his own twisted fantasy ever since the man had humiliated him months ago. But now, something stopped him. Deciding to go with his gut, no matter how little sense it made, Vali cel Tradat made up his mind.

"Here." He grabbed the badly wounded man's arm. Ali Pasha snarled a string of expletives, his deep voice beginning to warble. The former Assassin ignored him, hoisting him up. Moving the wounded man was hardly an easy task – the _Damat_ likely weighed about as much as the Sentinel did, and that was without his weapons and what little armor he wore. Vali took the rest of the Vizier's arsenal and left them in the dirt. He wouldn't admit it openly, but he even began to breathe a little easier once the sharp objects were far away from Ali Pasha's reach.

"What…what are you doing?..."

"I know someone. You actually know him as well." Vali grasped the weakened man, throwing his arm over his shoulders. Ali grunted with the effort, trying to push himself away. Vali curled his lip.

"Do you want to die here in the dirt or not?"

The Vizier began to laugh, his chortles mixed with pained wheezing. Vali's face grew hot. He didn't appreciate being laughed at when he was trying to do the ugly bastard a favor.

"Fine." He hissed. "It makes little difference to me." He let go of the _Damat's_ arm, letting him drop. Ali Pasha fell to his side, his chuckles now interchanging with sharp gasps as his injured ribs struck the ground. Vali scowled at him vehemently.

"…I don't understand you."

"Clearly." Ali rumbled, tasting blood in his mouth and throat. "You do not understand our Prince, either."

Vali furrowed his brow. The Vizier went on, voice growing weaker. His grip around his torn middle slackened.

"I have failed our Grand Master. Believe it or not, my death is well-deserved. Killing me now would grant me a favor. I'd rather die now, here in the sand, then face execution come first light."

"There is nothing foolish about a noble death." Vali agreed, his voice surprisingly light. He even shocked himself. "But you are indeed a fool if you feel your death cannot be avoided."

"I will not betray our Prince, as you have." Ali promised, his dark eyes now beginning to flutter. It would not be long, now. "I would prefer death."

"Then you _are_ a fool." Vali replied coldly, but the Vizier was already unconscious. The former Assassin glanced briefly around before once more kneeling down beside the heavily bleeding soldier.

This would take some time.

"I know his wounds are severe, but will he _live?_"

" – sprained wrist, possible concussion, deep lacerations to the chest and – "

"Doctor." Vali's tone was strained. It took all his willpower not to beat the Templar where he stood. Seraffo, clothed in his thick white garb, didn't answer, but continued to tend to the badly wounded Vizier. Vali sighed and tightly pinched the bridge of his nose before leaning back against the wall. He expected it to be a long night.

"He will live." The doctor said finally, setting down a rag soaked with blood. He lowered his hands to the table upon which the unconscious Vizier lay, before glancing back over his shoulder. Vali frowned – he hated not being able to see the other man's face. It made him nervous.

"What I cannot understand is why you brought him here in the first place."

Vali shrugged. "You're a doctor, no?"

"I'm not usually a doctor of _healing_."

"You cured Cyril's ailment." Vali pointed out, recalling the time the highly-ranked Deacon had been poisoned. Seraffo's head tilted ever so slightly. He turned away, beginning to clean his instruments.

"That was on order from Ahmet. You cannot order me to do anything."

Vali wrinkled his nose, but ignored the purposeful dig.

"So then why did you save his life? Certainly you don't care about his well-being." Vali understood better than most how fiercely competitive the Templars who worked for Ahmet were. Just as eager to stab one another in the back as they were to lick the pompous man's boot heels. If anything, Ali Pasha's death would likely have stood to benefit Seraffo, although Vali's own standing was likely beyond redemption.

The masked doctor began to clear away his now clean instruments. "For the same reason, I imagine, that you brought him to me."

So much for a straight answer. Vali had no clue as to why he spared the _Damat's_ life instead of ending it, as he had sworn himself to do. He crossed his arms over his chest, fixing the doctor's back with an even glare. Vali hated cryptic replies. He tried another tactic.

"Why do you wear white if you work in these conditions?"

"Why do you?"

It was going to be a long night, indeed.

Vali never slept soundly. His years of training taught him to sleep as lightly as possible; to constantly be on the lookout for any hint of danger. Which was why, late that night, he awoke easily to the sound of a low groan coming from the table where the badly wounded man lay.

Vali drew himself up to his feet, making his way carefully toward the table. He glanced down – the Vizier had managed to undo a small portion of the bandages wrapped around his chest and stomach. Vali's eyes flickered around the room, but the good doctor was nowhere in sight. He probably left to secure more poison, or find some poor dumb bastard to 'cure'. The possibility that he was away to inform Ahmet of the Sentinel's location crossed Vali's mind. But Seraffo was no fool – he wouldn't make his intentions quite so obvious. Besides, the Sentinel planned on making himself scarce as soon as possible.

He had to take care of something first, however. He drifted over to the Vizier, still unconscious on the table. Vali expected him to awake any time, which was why the injured man's wrists had been secured tightly to the edges of the table. Not that Vali expected him to be capable of attacking him, but when it came to the Vizier, it paid to expect the unexpected. It wouldn't be the first time Ali Pasha had surprised him.

Ali's entire world was black.

Sounds were muffled, as if he were hearing them through a heavy oak door. Voices echoed dimly in his head – he swore he heard Ahmet's clipped tone. The _Damat_ twisted his head to the side, aware of a sharp whine in his ears. He wondered if he were dying and this was all a dream.

"He's alive…barely…"

"There is too much blood."

"Hold him!"

Ali bared his teeth and yelled through his tightly clamped jaw, arching his back against a hard, uncomfortable surface. He felt heavy hands force him back down – perhaps this was Hell, and _Şeytan_ himself wished to make him suffer indefinitely.

The Vizier howled a string of ragged curses, but the pain continued. His chest and stomach burned as he felt a foul-smelling liquid enter the wound. He shouted, but not even he understood the words leaving his dry, cracked lips. The voices above him were effectively drowned out. All at once he felt a sharp prick in his shoulder, and the sensation of a long needle working its way deep into his skin and muscle. He opened his mouth again, but this time no sound came out. Somehow the pitch black darkness became even heavier, and his mind swam. It took a conscious effort to keep his head from rolling to the side.

Exhaustion was quick to overtake him. He groaned and finally became still, his injured form limp against the hard surface. His mind cleared for an instant – he understood that he was not dead. This was not Hell, and the devil was not overseeing his torture. Someone was working to save his life…but at that moment, all the Vizier wanted was to accept his own death.

"_Allah__ölmeme izin..._" He had no idea if he actually spoke or if he simply heard the words echo in his own head. Likely, it didn't matter.

Ali once more faded from consciousness.

When he awoke, his world was still one of inky blackness. But as his eyes fluttered, and his vision slowly began to clear, faint objects began to take form.

Four walls, and ceiling and a floor. Well, that was a start. A table and chairs. Medical equipment. A bench against the far wall. Ali Pasha's vision twisted and turned, the shapes melting and morphing into each other. He tried to shake his head to clear it, but instead only managed to smack it against the table upon which he lay. A cough interrupted his thoughts, and the _Damat_ sucked in a slow breath. All was silent.

"If I did not know better, I would have thought that you were actually trying to die, last night."

Ali's head tilted toward the sound. He squinted, and made out the ghost-like form of the traitor. Vali. His cowl hid his eyes, but his mouth was pressed into a hard line. He was studying the Vizier. Ali's own lips formed into a heavy sneer, despite his state. Never let it be said that he was grateful to a damned Assassin. Ali wished he would have left him for dead.

"And you believe that I wasn't." He sneered.

"No." Vali responded plainly. He frowned down at the damned stubborn man. "If you truly sought death, you would not still be here."

"Poetic." Ali curled his upper lip.

"You are a fool."

The Vizier growled and made to grab the arrogant prick. But his hands stopped short, and the soldier realized that his wrists were bound tightly in place. He emitted a strangled yell of rage, but secretly figured it was just as well. As if he could even hope to wipe the triumphant smirk off the bastard's face in his current state.

"Are we finished, then?"

"No." Vali leaned in. "You are going to listen to listen to me explain why." He took the Vizier's enraged expression as his blessing to continue. The former Assassin cleared his throat.

"You are a fool because you do nothing for yourself. You obey Ahmet's every order and command, slaughtering traitors and innocents in equal measure." He braced his palms against the solid oak table. Ali clenched his jaw – the Sentinel was certainly enjoying making him rage against his current helplessness.

He continued. "You see the world in black and white. The Templars and the Assassins. I pity any man as blind as you."

"When I am free, I swear to Allah that I will – "

"No." In a single fluid motion, Vali withdrew his _katar_ and pressed the blade against the man's throat.

"Shut…_up_."

The Vizier's eyes flashed violently, and Vali had no doubt that the man would tear him into pieces if given even the slightest opportunity. Even in his weakened state, Vali was pleased that he had the foresight to keep the _Damat_ restrained.

"Ahmet is nothing but a weak child who throws a temper tantrum when he doesn't get his way." Vali tapped the edge of his weapon tauntingly against the restrained man's chest.

"Truth be told, I will be doing you a favor, removing you from his patronage."

Ali Pasha arched a brow. "You will kill me, then." His eyes drifted to the sharpened weapon in Vali's hand. The former Assassin gave a single sigh.

"If you seek death so readily, you can perform the deed yourself." He said after a lengthy pause. "But I doubt that you will."

The _Damat_ slowly untensed, letting the back of his head fall back against the table. His eyes fluttered and closed. So focused had he been on the former Assassin that he'd forgotten all about the pain in his body. Now it came flooding back, and he clenched his lower jaw.

"You…presume to tell me what I will and will not do?"

The Sentinel smiled. The god-damn bastard actually smiled.

"You are an arrogant man, Ali. And a powerful one. I am not enough of a fool to deny it. Knowing that is what has kept me alive these past months. I know you've been ordered to have me killed." He returned the bladed weapon to the holder in his sash. He drew out a curved knife. Ali Pasha ignored the blade, tilting his head back.

"Then kill me and be done with it. I am tired of playing your games."

"As you wish."

The Vizier jerked involuntarily as the pointed end of the blade stabbed into the wooden table top, inches from the soldier's head. He stared at the curved weapon, sharp end buried deeply into the wood. His stare flickered back to the man clothed in white and green.

"I will consider this your sincere apology." Vali murmured, backing away from the table. "I will leave your death in the hands of Ahmet."

Ali said nothing – he _couldn't_ say anything. He eventually closed his eyes once more and forced his rapidly beating heart to slow. When Seraffo returned to his apartment hours later, Ali Pasha was resting quietly, his breathing weak but steady, and the Sentinel was nowhere to be seen.


End file.
